


Made for you

by limin



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Declarations Of Love, First Meetings, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I desperately need a soulmate fic with them, M/M, So here we are
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:28:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24272818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limin/pseuds/limin
Summary: The words on Raymond’s forearm are written in cursive, gold letters standing out. Today it has taken on a quote from As I Lay Dying, by Faulkner. He only knows that fact after an internet search that introduces him to a new book.The words wrap around Kevin’s wrist are written in perfectly typed Ariel, black letters imprinted on his skin. Today it shows itself as another formally said sentence, like it always has, as much as Kevin wishes his wrist stays blank.Or: Every morning, each person wakes up to a random sentence of their soulmate's inked into their skin.
Relationships: Kevin Cozner/Ray Holt
Comments: 67
Kudos: 129





	1. “And then, life wasn’t made to be easy on folks...”

**Author's Note:**

> I have simple needs and one of them is a soulmate au for these two because they are definitely soulmates.
> 
> Also featuring me taking (classic) lit out of context, rip to Virgil, Ovid and more

Raymond likes sticking to a routine: Wakes up at 6 am sharp in the morning, stops his alarm clock from ringing, spends 15 minutes looking at his soul mark, getting out of bed and getting ready for his work. He would be in uniform and ready to go at exactly 6:45, which leaves him another 15 minutes of researching the quote if needed to. 

Most of the time it’s a quote from a literature text, and he would learn of a new author every day. The rarer occasions would have a more formal line of conversation unless it’s a line of dialogue in another piece of text. There’s no clear indication as to which it could be, but Raymond likes to think his soulmate’s pattern of speech is like the books that he loves to read aloud.

Today it’s clearly a quote, longer than usual. The golden cursive stares back at Raymond as he looks down, letting himself get lost in the handwriting. It should not get to him anymore, not after years and years of daily sentences. 

But there’s something about the curve of the y and the tittle of the i that never fails to capture his heart. His finger traces the words, reading it aloud and imagining his soulmate reading it in whatever circumstances he might be in. 

“And then, life wasn’t made to be easy on folks: they wouldn’t ever have any reason to be good and die,” Raymond recites, letting the words wash over him. What a quote that the universe has chosen to be printed on his arms today. 

15 minutes pass too quickly, but today means he can spare 15 minutes to read into this quote so it all balances out in the end. The words echo in his head as he takes a cold morning shower, drying himself before putting on the uniform that he has laid out yesterday. 

He’s careful when he types the quote in the search bar, pressing enter and waiting as the internet loads. 

A quick scan of the results tells him the most basic information: the line is from a book called As I Lay Dying, by William Faulkner. It seems to be a favourite author of his soulmate, far as track record goes. This is the fourth time his sentence is a line from Faulkner for the past two weeks. Raymond nods to himself, noting the information down in his laptop and hitting save on the word document that’s filled with little facts from the sentences.

A notable one is that his soulmate is a dog person, evidenced by the quote “This is a trivial question, Martin. But if you must know, I prefer canine.” Raymond doesn’t have a preference himself, but the thoughts of him and his soulmate and a dog next to them warms his heart the same way a cup of black coffee would. Maybe even more.

He finishes his note, this time nodding in self-satisfaction at his handiwork. The document has reached over 20 pages, Arial font size 11, black against the white background. All information about the man that Raymond is destined to be with, filtered and typed down, makes him fall harder with every line of addition. 

Today is a more sentimental day for him, apparently.

* * *

Raymond is not going to lie to himself, seeing how that is a pointless thing to do, but he has spent too many hours fantasizing about his soulmate. It is not efficient, and sometimes he does that during work, but Raymond can’t help himself. It is hard not to be intrigued by the professor (one of the quotes is clearly a line spoken to a student, at least college level and assuming he is a professor, many other details add up) that he is destined to be with. The one that is made for him, perfect in every way. 

The concept of a soulmate baffles and at the same time comforts him. Raymond has learned about it as soon as he can speak proper sentences. His mother has pulled him and his sister aside to explain everything, from the very basis: a random sentence tattooed on his forearm that your soulmate has said during the day, to the history of soulmate, the science (or lack thereof,) mythology and many more. 

In the end, she handed him a small notebook where she has written down all the quotes from his soulmates that he himself couldn’t understand at the age, and Raymond still keeps the book close. It has found a home on his bedside table, never changing.

His sister has taken the idea like a duck to water, escalated about this soulmate of hers. He has never bothered too much during the talk, and the feeling doesn’t fully hit until he takes the time to properly digest the information later that night. And when he starts school, facing looks that got worse when he joined the NYPD, got worse when he knows he likes men, does this soulmate get more important. 

After all, someone who the universe made to love and be loved by Raymond is someone to be treasured. That’s why he has the word document in the first place, and why he is reading the first chapter of As I Lay Dying during lunch break, going through a pdf he finds online. Ideally, he would prefer a hardcover book, but he makes do. 

He wonders if his soulmate has it as a physical copy, before scoffing. Of course, he would, it’s his soulmate after all. His thoughts drift again as his train of thoughts lead down another endless spiral of how his soulmate is right now, what is he doing, is he thinking of Raymond the same way Raymond is thinking about him? He is not a very romantic person, but that sentence has earned the adjective.

He supposes learning all names of orchids and roses when he finds out his soulmate likes shearing rose is also a romantic point to himself. 

A voice calls out, bringing him back to reality. “Holt! There’s a call for you, I’m transferring the line over! Reporter wanna ask about your previous case.”

Oh. He looks at the clock at the corner of his computer, finding that lunch break is indeed over already. How strange, he doesn’t usually let time escape him, but everything he usually is, the fundamental that makes Raymond himself, has always taken a change when his soulmate is of concern. 

He nods at his coworker, picking up the phone while tracing his memory for the nearest case he has busted that would warrant an interview.  


“Good day, this is Detective Raymond Holt, I can come to the phone right now,” he says, the words flowing out with practised ease with how many times he has said it. The title detective is still hard to believe, and one day he hopes it will be Captain Raymond Holt instead.  


“Hello, detective. My name is Kevin Cozner, I am a writer for The New Yorker,” the voice on the phone replies with the same ease and confidence. It is no surprise, Raymond supposes. This is for The New Yorker after all. “I am working on a piece about gun-store thefts and tracking stolen firearms, and it is to my understanding that you work as the leading officer for the case. Would you mind answering some questions?”

“It will be my pleasure, Mr Cozner.”

He hears a faint click of a pen from the other end and a pleased hum following his answer. “Kevin is fine, and thank you. I will try not to take up much of your time, so a short summary would suffice.”

“But of course.” He shifts in his seat, getting comfortable and pulling up the report from his computer. “As you know, the spree has been going for a solid three years, and it isn’t until last year that the case was transferred to our precinct. There was not much to work with, besides the cut and close trace through the Iron Pipeline.”

“Oh?”

“Those are trafficking corridors that funnel firearms. Our suspects kept slipping off our hand. It wasn’t until we found a bolt cutter left at the crime scene did we manage to start up the case again,” Raymond continues, and because he couldn’t help himself, add: “The team didn’t have much hope, but I stick to my guns.”

It proves rewarding when he hears a small laugh from Kevin, so quiet it almost goes unnoticed if he’s anyone else. Raymond, however, is nothing but observant, and strangely enough, finds himself wanting to hear it again. 

“I am certainly glad that you had done that, detective. Do go on.”

“Well, from there our suspect, a man named Jeremy Aycock, confessed easily. We had two names coming out of the room, including his cousin and the prime suspect of the case, Scott Aycock. From there we traced Scott down to his house, however, our attempt to capture him wasn’t very successful. He was on the run for 6 months before we managed to capture him again.”

“How so?”

“Well, that is a loaded question-” another laugh, and Raymond smiles. “Scott shot himself in the foot when he sold his last ten or fifteen guns, figuratively, and our police dog did the rest of the work. We found him curled up underneath the porch, and this time he was put in behind bars.”

Raymond can hear the smile when Kevin replies. “Good heavens, you are hilarious.”

“I try my best,” he says, pauses and wonders if he really should go for it. Dating before meeting your soulmate isn’t uncommon, and he has experimented with many others. Federick comes to mind, which means the ugly duck ornament comes to mind too. “I am indeed short on time, so perhaps we can meet up later tonight?”

There, he said it. His eyes darted around the room, and to his relief, no one’s listening in. Most of them hate dealing with the press, so Raymond’s not surprised. 

Kevin is silent and Raymond fidgets with his pen, clicking it with each passing second. “For personal or professional talk, detective?” Kevin asks after 8 clicks. “I would not want us to be on different pages here.”

“Personal, if you don’t have any objection.”

“Oh.”

“I’m asking you out,” Raymond clarifies himself further. “On a date.”

“Of course,” Kevin says, breathlessly. “Raymond, can I call you Raymond?”

“If that is a yes to my question, yes you can.”

“Raymond then. I would not be averse to a date, as you called it,” Kevin answers, and there’s a slight lift in his voice at the word date that makes Raymond smile. 

They talk for a few more minutes, straightening out the details before bidding goodbye. He puts the phone down, looking at Kevin’s newly acquired email address and the smile doesn’t leave his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The case is based off an actual case that's covered by The New Yorker. A lot of details are altered, left out, (deliberately ignored because of location problem and timeline problem) but hey, this is a fanfic for a tv show. I clicked on the first result that pops up when I comb through the new yorker page, so now you have to put up with this.
> 
> Apparently, Kevin's favourite author is Faulkner, and Raymond reads it aloud for Kevin, says Dan Goor. Thank you, sir, for saving me the hassle of searching for another writer to be Kevin's fav. I just picked a random quote from As I Lay Dying that can be googled and get the novel name.
> 
> Ps: This is not beta read, so I'm sorry for any typo you might have spotted. Otherwise, though, I hope that this was an enjoyable read for you :D More coming soon when I figure out how to write a dating scene for these two


	2. “...they wouldn’t ever have any reason to be good and die.”

The restaurant he and Kevin have agreed on is not far from his own place, merely a 15 minutes walk, 7 if he’s speed walking. He knows, logically, that he can take his time getting ready without the risk of being late.

All of that doesn’t explain why he’s fidgeting with his own outfit for the night an hour earlier than the agreed-upon time, or why he’s practising a greeting or why is he planning on leaving the house 10 minutes sooner, or why he’s considering speed walking to a date. 

But all of that doesn't matter, not when he’s opening the door to the sight of Kevin there, talking to a waiter about their reserved table. 

Oh no, Kevin looks good. Good enough to make Raymond stares, speechless, quiet, admiring and it isn’t until the waiter addresses him does Kevin notices his presence. 

“Ah, good evening Raymond,” Kevin smiles at him, and Raymond was right. Kevin’s smile in person lights up the room. “You’re early.”

“So are you,” he says, instead of what he has been intending to say. Thank you for agreeing to my invitation, it was meant to be. He even practised it in front of the mirror before leaving, saying the words aloud to his reflection. He hopes Kevin doesn’t realise his hiccup.

“I have to admit, I did overestimate the time it would take to get here,” Kevin says as they walk to their table, one a bit more tuck away as per Raymond’s arrangement. “Traffic is surprisingly clear tonight.”

“I am glad to hear that.”

“And how about you? Any reason as to why you are here this early?” 

“It’s always good to arrive early,” Raymond says, not quite lying. He values people being on time, and people who get there earlier is always good to have on hand. 

I was worried about this date, more than you might think, he almost says. He also has some resemblance of self-control left, the part that hasn’t thrown itself out of the window once he sees Kevin. 

“Punctual. A man after my own heart,” Kevin replies as if he isn’t the one after Raymond’s heart right now.

The dinner passes faster than Raymond would have liked. Time flies when you’re having fun and Raymond _is_ having fun. There’s a rush of great pleasure in making Kevin’s laugh, but wordplay aside, the conversation is highly enjoyable too. Kevin can talk about literature the whole night, and there’s something mesmerising about watching Kevin’s (brilliant) eyes light up as he explains the Metamorphoses, Ovid, specifically, book V-VIII on rhetoric and regret. All of that is then followed by a joke about Ovid and Kafka that’s comedy gold.

Kevin looks so pleased with himself for making Raymond laugh, like the cat that got the canary. 

In return, he shares information about his work and life, his interest in classical music (Kevin looks very interested here, interested enough that Raymond’s considering an opera date right there and then,) his new interest in painting (he promises to show Kevin one of the rock still life) and his own taste in literature. 

“I have been getting great recommendations,” Raymond admits and Kevin’s eyebrow flicks upward again in one smooth elegant movement. He wonders if Kevin’s aware of that little endearing habit. “Faulkner.”

“Amazing taste. I was going through his writing these past months, and he had never disappointed,” Kevin says. “Which of his books are you reading at the moment?”

“As I Lay Dying. I started it today, in fact,” he answers, careful not to bring up the word soulmate. It is a rather taboo topic, and for now, he would rather let sleeping dogs lie. “It has been an amazing read, so far.”

“ May I ask which section are you on right now?”

“Section?” 

Kevin gives him another smile like he knows Raymond is just asking to hear Kevin’s own explanation. In his defence, Kevin has a positively amazing voice, “like a radio host” Raymond will say a few dates later. 

“Faulkner did not number the sections since he was interested in creating a continuous impression. Therefore, the following attempt to divide the novel into sections and groups is made so as to facilitate critical commentary.”

“Interesting. I did not know that before.”

“His work is always fascinating to look at,” Kevin says, but he’s looking straight at Raymond. “Faulkner's technique is to present short individual sections in which some character gives their thoughts about the events that are taking place. Interior monologue, one would call it.”

“And what are your thoughts on the events that are taking place right now?” Raymond shoots the question back. 

“I think the evening has been very rewarding, and I do not regret agreeing to your invitation,” Kevin answers. “Not for a split second at all.”

“I think that we are in agreement,” he says, and before Raymond can stop himself, his hand reaches out to Kevin’s own, holding them firmly. His hand is so much smaller, less calloused and it fits perfectly. He can see Kevin freezes up at the sudden contact, but he doesn’t pull away. “I would not be opposed to a second date either.”

“Shall we pay and leave? I do wish to kiss you right now, but the setting is, unlike us, less than agreeable,” Kevin says, keeping his voice down but Raymond can hear the heat behind the words. They split the check, of course, and Raymond has never sped through that process faster. 

He and Kevin walk back to his apartment together. The street is empty, like a scene out of a movie, as cliché as it is. He has not let go of Kevin’s hand.

When he wakes up from this dream, it will have been so disappointing. But right now Kevin is here, next to him, close to him and Raymond holds on tighter. Kevin gives him a side look then, but otherwise he doesn’t comment on the action, preserving this comfortable silence.

This is nice. 

There’s always a need to fill in the quiet with his old partners, but right now the background noise mixed with their footsteps on the concrete sidewalk is enough. More than enough even.

Arriving back at his place has never been this disappointing because it means Kevin will have to leave. But it’s also exciting, Kevin’s words playing in his head again and again. He unlocks the door carefully, opening it but not entering just yet. 

“Raymond?” 

“I remember you did promise me something, back in the restaurant,” Raymond boldly replies. How scandalising, doing this right here and on the first date no less. But it’s not every day that he asked out a writer through the phone seconds after an interview either. 

“I suggested, not promised,” Kevin corrects him but he is smiling teasingly and Raymond smiles back. 

And then Kevin brings his hand up and brushes a small kiss on his knuckles, and all thoughts leave Raymond’s mind. It’s a small and soft gesture, but it’s the smallest thing that hits the hardest.

His face is hot, and Raymond lets out a shaky breath. Kevin releases his hand, and it drops back to his side, a lingering heat and contact tingling at his fingertips. “And you delivered, in the end,” he says, hoping his words don't show how affected he is. It sounds shaky to his own ears, but right now everything is turning and shifting and he doesn’t trust his senses. 

There’s that satisfied smile again on Kevin’s face. “Thank you for asking me out, Raymond.” 

“Thank you for agreeing to my invitation,” he replies. How ironic, he has been meaning to say that at the beginning of the date, not the end. Raymond chuckles to himself, and when he looks at Kevin there’s a questioning look in those eyes. Questioning with a hint of something else, surprised perhaps. “I meant to tell you that at the restaurant at the start, not here,” he explains.

Kevin clears his throat, nodding and diverting his gaze. “Of course. Well, it has been enjoyable but I should be going soon. Lecture to prepare…” he trails off awkwardly. “It, honestly, was an amazing night Raymond.”

“I have great company,” he offers Kevin a small shrug. “Stay safe on your way back, Kevin. Take care.”

“Good night, and you take care too,” Kevin says, turning and walking away at a faster pace than when they walked back. His fists are clenching on his side, the last proof Raymond needs to confirm his hypothesis.

Something happened at the last minute, something that made Kevin rush off in a tense state. Something that Raymond is intended to get to the bottom of, just like how he has solved the Aycock case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say, the Metamorphoses joke is unintentional. I was going through a syllabus on classical literature, and then Ovid just catches my eyes and there's a split second of me processing before audibly saying "god damn it" to myself. At that moment I know I have to have it in, alright? And I now finally understand the other half of the joke, so good on me. 
> 
> Also, I have also been re-writing this whole story from Kevin's POV too, so I'm thinking of either posting both POV at the same time, or going through this whole story from Raymond's view and then post Kevin's. What would you prefer, asking for a friend (me I'm friend)
> 
> Speaking of Kevin... I'm sure you can summarise what happens at the last minute there, so I won't say much more on that :) I hope you like this chapter, and I will see you soon-ish


	3. “I should have told him.”

Today's sentence is simple, yet holds more meaning than Raymond could have ever imagined. 

“I should have told him,” it reads. 

He gives himself the usual 15 minutes to process the sentence, though this time there’s not much to dissect. He does wonder what his soulmate is going through to have that sentence spoken aloud, most likely to himself. What are the circumstances where one regrets keeping a secret so much as to verbalise the guilt? 

His mind doesn’t linger too long on it. There’s not enough proof to make any educated guess, so Raymond simply would not. Instead he thinks back about last night, where there are more proofs to gather about Kevin.

He had left in a hurry, and from his own knowledge of Columbia University, Kevin is most likely not lying about needing to prepare for a lecture. But it’s not lying in the sense of him not lying yesterday when he covered up his arrival. 

He decides that Kevin will tell him if it’s important for him to know, and move on. But not quite.

His finger is subconsciously tracing the spot where Kevin had kissed him last night. 15 minutes pass by faster than he thought, and Raymond gets out of bed with some reluctance. He can’t keep Kevin out of his mind throughout his morning routine though, and when Raymond’s ready to go it’s 6:47.

2 minutes later than his schedule. What is Kevin doing to him? Kevin with his laugh, the enthusiasm in his voice as he speaks length about Odes, his genuine interest in Raymond’s hobby. 

The last one makes him smile. Whenever he starts talking about his own interest, how much he enjoys Palestrina and Bach, the fencing match that he caught last week, his still-life rocks painting, people get bored. He can see through the facade of fake interest, and it is understandable. People have different taste.

Kevin, however, can match him with any conversation and when he’s in the unknown, Kevin is willing to listen and learn. Kevin, who asks him to elaborate on why he thinks the Kyrie–Gloria Mass in G minor is underrated, and then to his shock and surprise, eludes to a possible pair of tickets to the New York Philharmonic. Kevin, who asks if he can see Raymond’s still life rock series, before backtracking, flusteredly claiming he hasn’t meant to step past boundaries.

Kevin Cozner, soulmate or not, is a keeper. If a romantic relationship doesn’t work out between them, Raymond would be a fool to throw away a chance of cultivating a friendship with Kevin. 

He’s a fool in other ways, one of them being emailing Kevin to ask if he’s free for another outing tomorrow. This is too rash, too fast but when he presses send, he has no regret in asking. 

Raymond sighs. Now all that is left is to wait for Kevin’s response, hoping that he will agree despite the final sour note last night.

* * *

He does. Raymond allows a moment of excitement for himself (Kevin agrees to a second date!) before the dread floods in (Oh, Kevin agrees and Raymond does not know how to proceed from here, oh no.) 

He knows he’s acting like a lovesick teenager, worrying about what he should wear, how he should act, would Kevin like the blue sweater or should he go with something more colourful, or perhaps more muted. 

It isn’t until tomorrow afternoon when both of them are finished at their respective work that they will meet up. He still has approximately 19 hours until the date, and worrying this much about his appearance is unbecoming of him. So is worrying about ruining the date but what if he accidentally got a detail wrong and Kevin sees how he deserves so much better than Raymond? 

He doesn’t usually dream, by which Raymond means almost never. But tonight he dreams of Kevin’s hand in his, a peaceful escape for 7 hours before he wakes up and is plunged into the world of what-ifs again.

It’s 6:45 (11 hours and 15 minutes more) and Raymond realises he has not checked his sentence. He has not batted an eye at his forearm since he has woken up, and for once he feels like he doesn’t need to. It’s a break in the daily routine of spending 15 minutes for his soulmate, a routine that he has had going since high school, and it should have made him feel...something other than a silent acceptance that he might come across his soulmate today and he wouldn’t know. 

Even if he were, Raymond would not cancel his date with Kevin for anything else in the world. Partly because they have both agreed, and it would simply be rude to cancel it last minute. Partly because it’s Kevin.

* * *

“The most important role Aeneas assumes is that of a dutiful servant of fate and of the gods, entirely faithful to attaining his goal. The epic's opening lines attest to this character trait: Aeneas is "a man apart, devoted to his mission," Kevin says and Raymond listens. They’re taking a leisure stroll in the park, close but not too close as to reflect the nature of their relationship. 

He still wishes to hold Kevin’s hand, but safety is always the first priority. And he can put up with the lack of contact easily if Kevin continues to talk about what he’s teaching. 

“Later in Book I, Virgil calls him "the dedicated man," and when Aeneas introduces himself to Dido, he describes himself as "duty-bound." Ironically, the more afflicted he is, the greater is his trust in destiny.” Kevin pauses. He seems to want to say something, stopping himself at the last moment and Raymond is left to wonder what it might have been. 

It isn’t like he minds the silence either, not with Kevin’s presence. But he can feel words that are left unsaid on Kevin’s part. 

Kevin recites something in a foreign language, words Raymond doesn’t understand but enjoys nonetheless. Latin if he has to guess, seeing how they are talking about Virgil right now. The way he pronounces each word, from the roll of the r to the slight drawl at the end of the sentence, is simply perfect. 

“What does that mean?” Raymond asks, and Kevin looks at him with a flick of an eyebrow. A million what-if from yesterday night and today and one of those guesses is suddenly happening right now. Of course, people who Kevin has dated speak Latin when all he can do is Greek, this is where he messes up, he should not have asked. “I’m sorry.”

Kevin smiles, nudging Raymond’s shoulder with his own and the split second of contact that can be read as friendly banter relaxes him. “There’s simply nothing to be apologetic about. If anything, I’m sorry for assuming you speak Latin.”

“A fair assumption, under the circumstances. I couldn’t imagine people in your line of work not speaking it.” Your line of work and your life. 

“You would be surprised by how little people know, linguistic-wise. You merely give me an impression of someone who would be well versed in it.”

“Wrong language, sadly.”

“Oh?” 

“I did not take Latin as a subject as, at the time, French and Greek had managed to capture my interest. And of course, right now I’m working on perfecting my Spanish vocabulary,” he adds, a soft attempt to impress. He is fluent in the first two, though Spanish is still uncharted territory. 

But the attempt works, because Kevin is giving him a look that’s too much for Raymond to decipher. “That is amazing, Raymond,” Kevin says in French.

Of course Kevin speaks French too.

“It is nothing, I’m sure,” he replies. His words lack a certain accent that Kevin has effortlessly switched into, but it is grammatically correct as far as Raymond knows and that’s all that matters. 

“You’re selling yourself short, detective.”

“And you’re being too kind, professor.”

People talk about pet names and Raymond has never understood it. Why call your partner something else other than their name, why need to rely on another cute object to express your affection? Sometimes it’s not a cute object either, both to society’s normal standard and his own standard of cuteness. 

But the way Kevin says detective and he says professor has the same affection as a couple calling each other baby and honey and other sweet desserts of the same kind. 

“Still, Aeneid?” he asks, steering the conversation back on track and Kevin nods. 

“Aeneid,” Kevin switches back to English. “I believe it would be “Here for the first time he took heart to hope. For safety, and to trust his destiny more. Even in affliction,” by Fitzgerald.”

“And what do those lines mean?”

“It is said when he first sees the temple Dido built to honour Juno, and no matter how often he feels unfairly treated, he never loses faith in the will of fate,” Kevin replies.

“Faith in the will of fate,” Raymond echoes the words. “Fascinating, is it not?”

“I suppose. Whereas we typically think of divinities as sources of security and order, Virgil's gods and goddesses, especially Juno, create chaos in an already disordered human world.” Kevin sighs. “Throughout the first book, Virgil emphasizes the continual cause, effect relationship between Aeneas and the deities: Aeolus causes winds to pummel the Trojan ships, and many ships are lost; Neptune causes the winds to dissipate, and Aeneas heads for the nearest shore, which just happens to be near Carthage; and Venus causes Dido to fall instantly and completely in love with Aeneas, who will then languish in Carthage longer than he should.”

“A reflection of and on the idea of soulmates, maybe?” he asks before he can stop himself, but it’s already too late. Raymond wants to kick himself for being so rash, bringing the topic up this early.

If Kevin were to leave, Raymond would not blame him as much as he blames himself.

“Lack thereof,” comes the answer. “Unfortunately, their relationship is doomed from the start, partly because of Juno’s and Venus's manipulation of them, and because Aeneas cannot be waylaid indefinitely from his rightful destiny. But it is an interesting point of destiny forged, which can include soulmates and other variance of it if one may feel inclined to.”

Raymond doesn’t realise they have stopped walking, instead standing still under one of the trees in the park. There are people around, too many for a conversation of this scale, but he asks anyway. “And are you inclined to?”

It will come up at some point, it has come up throughout his dating history. The conversation differs from person to person, but the general idea of “If I were to find my soulmate, you would understand, right?” stays consistent. It’s a common fail-safe. 

Kevin offers him a shrug. “I know that soulmates exist, the ever-changing mark has to come from somewhere. I know that mine is out there somewhere. I don’t believe in soulmates, however.”

“Would you mind elaborate, or is this threading uncomfortable ground? If it is, you have my sincerest apology.”

“It is no problem, I assure you. Thank you for checking in.” Kevin sends him a small smile that does little to mask his nervousness. His hands are opening and closing on his side again, and Raymond mentally notes down the nervous tick.

He looks around, gauging the non-existence crowd. People are starting to clear out, the sun slowly setting and the cold wind is picking up. What’s left of the people here are preparing to leave, leashing their dogs and a group even clearing up a picnic setup. The coast is clear enough for him to take a deep breath and reach forward, intertwining their hands again.

Kevin sighs softly, his thumb rubbing small circles on Raymond’s hand. “While the thought of a person or people, who perfectly match you in every way is a nice dream, it also removes the ability to choose, I suppose. You either end up with your soulmate, or you are forced to live a miserable life because you did not find a stranger who’s only special because of a coincided mark.”

“People have made a life for themselves without a soulmate before,” Raymond can’t help but points out. He has done his research, which means he inevitably will run across speeches on life without a soulmate, on essays in published papers and otherwise argues against the idea.

“That, they have. My point is, I prefer falling in love without outside influence. I want, and excuse the sentimental mood I seem to have found myself in tonight, to know one has chosen to be with me because of who I am, and not because of a silly mark,” Kevin breathes out. “And I, them, vice-versa.”

“It is a valid feeling to this whole ordeal,” Raymond nods. Kevin shrugs again. “I have never thought about it like this before.”

“People have always preferred rose-tinted glasses. And putting so much weight on the word soulmate is, simply, ridiculous. Not to mention the statistics of falling out between soulmates, etcetera. ”

Oh, out of anyone, Raymond would know. There are so many cases, and sometimes he wonders if he should have any hope for his own soulmate. Some days are spent tracing the words, some days are spent not-looking at his words before he inevitably craves in at the last of the 15 minutes. 

Some days the quote of whatever book his soulmate has decided to read aloud doesn’t help calm his mind. There are books he has never touched simply because the quote has appeared on his forearm on a bad day and is associated with bad memories. Books that Raymond doubts he will ever pick up. 

“Raymond?” Kevin asks, and he blinks. Kevin has stopped talking, Kevin is also closer than Raymond has remembered. “Your breathing is picking up, and your grip has gotten significantly tighter the moment I mentioned statistics and otherwise. Are you feeling well?”

He is breathing faster than usual, sure, but it’s a minute difference that he’s surprised Kevin can tell. His grip is more obvious, and Raymond loosens his hand but Kevin is still holding on, not letting go. “I seem to have gotten upset at the prospect of my own soulmate not working out,” he answers truthfully. “I am sorry for interrupting you like that, Kevin.”

“It is nothing Raymond. In return, I’m sorry for making you upset. I should have noticed it sooner.”

“It’s nothing that you can know about in advance,” he says. 

“Doesn’t change the fact that I have upset you, detective,” Kevin answers back quickly. “Shall we take a minute? We are still at the park after all, and a walk is always a good method to clear one’s head.”

Raymond nods, but he doesn’t move until Kevin gives a light tug. 

“I didn’t mean to bring up such a topic, on our second meeting too,” he says at some point, and Kevin raises an eyebrow at him. It's such a Kevin thing to do. 

“We will have to talk about it at some point, sooner than later I’d say,” Kevin says. 

“I haven’t checked my word today,” he confesses. “I don’t think I want to, not when I’m with you.”

“We are on the same boat then. I don’t make it a habit to check on my words either if you can’t already tell.” 

Raymond chuckles, and Kevin smiles. It’s a small quirk of his lips, a subtle change but it makes Raymond’s steps just a bit lighter. “I wouldn’t give you up for the world, Kevin.”

“I sure hope not, Raymond. Who else would talk to me about Frans Brüggen and the recorder playing world in general?”

Kevin remembers. He has mentioned it at some point during their dinner as a passing, and here Kevin is, keeping track of his favourite artist. “I hope you don’t have any other friends with a widespread knowledge on recorder then. However, my attention has been captured by Hans-Martin Linde and the Linde Consort these days. Their Concerti Grossi, specifically Op.3.”

“Oh? I can’t say that I’m familiar with their work.”

“Remind me to lend you some of the recordings I have then.”

Kevin hums. Usually, he interprets that as not paying attention hum, a sure-whatever hum, but with Kevin, Raymond knows the recording will be brought up later at some point. Raymond will simply have to prepare a selection of Vinyl for Kevin then. 

“I simply can’t wait.”

Raymond can’t either. He thinks of bringing up more artists, both for recorder and more. He thinks of Kevin listening to Raymond’s recommendation, perhaps with a glass of white, perhaps with his eyes closed, enjoying the music. The recording plays in his head, not perfect but after many repeats, it is as close to the original as his imagination can get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endnotes rambling, go:
> 
> 1\. I'm sorry for anyone who actually knows anything about literature. Most of what Kevin's talking about is from Aeneid Book I. Tbh, I was not expecting to do the jump from literature to soulmate like that and Aeneid was randomly selected from several other books in a classical literature syllabus at first. Then I did some reading and well, here we are. 
> 
> Had I taken quotes and analysis out of context? Maybe. What are you going to do about it? Nothing beside watching me spin the wheel of "which classical literature piece will I take out of context next?" of course :)
> 
> (Listen, writing for these two is harder than usual because they are smart sophisticated (but still disaster) gays and I only got the gay and disaster part covered so I will have to literature my way out of this mess, ok? ok. cool cool cool, no doubt, no doubt.)
> 
> 2\. I have feelings about soulmate and Kevin also has some and tbh, he's right and he should say it. If soulmates do exists, they're not found. They're made. If I know the fic will get to this, I would have made them not soulmate but like, stay happy with each other anyway but hindsight's 2020 (is it too late for this joke?)
> 
> 3\. I'm sorry for not having Cheddar as promised in this chapter. The tone shift is a bit much, but here's the cutout part:
> 
> _He was going to say something about Linde if not for Kevin suddenly stopping, looking to his right with sudden interest. “Did you hear something, detective?”_
> 
> _The music in his head stops. “I can’t say I have, wait…” He trails off quietly, just in time to hear a small bark. “A dog?”_
> 
> _“With no owner around,” Kevin completes his thought. “How peculiar, don’t you think so?”_
> 
> _“Well, as a police officer of the NYPD, I suppose I should go and check this out,” Raymond says, not missing the relief in Kevin’s shoulder. “Do you like animals, Kevin?”_
> 
> _“Well, who would not?”_
> 
> _“I believe a more specific and common question would be: Are you a dog or a cat person?”_
> 
> _“I have always preferred canine,” Kevin answers, following him to where the sound is coming from. “But both are pleasant enough with proper training, of course. And you, Raymond?”_
> 
> _“I don’t have any strong opinion on either.” Raymond stops in front of a pile of leaves, where another small bark emits from. “Would you do the honour?”_
> 
> _“The honour of moving the leaves aside?”_
> 
> _“What else could I be referring to?”_
> 
> _Kevin shrugs, crouching down and sweeps some leaves at the top off. “It never hurts to ask for clari- oh, it’s a corgi.”_
> 
> _“I beg your pardon?”_
> 
> _Kevin's eyes dart from...the corgi to him, amused. “A corgi. Quite a small one too, without a collar.”_
> 
> And then they found cheddar and everything is good and fluffy, like the fluffy boy himself. Cut out again, because of the tone shift but also because that dog or cat person question is too on the nose if you remember that line from chap 1.
> 
> 4\. Go listen to Frans Brüggen and Linde Consort stuff you coward. Obviously, I'm thankful for all the kudos and comments and bookmarks (love all of you) but if there's anything for you to get out of this fic it's that Captain Dad's so right, and recorder players are out here being underrated.
> 
> That was a very very long endnotes and now that it has ended, I hope this was a good chapter to read and hope you have a great day :)


	4. “What are you doing to me?”

Raymond used to have a routine: Wakes up at 6 am sharp in the morning, stops his alarm clock from ringing, spends 15 minutes looking at his soul mark, getting out of bed, and getting ready for his work. He would be in uniform and ready to go at exactly 6:45, which leaves him another 15 minutes of researching the quote if needed. 

Keyword, used to. There’s the big shift when he bypasses the 15 minutes soulmate check, instead not letting the words take up too much of his time. Sometimes he will see the beginning of the sentence, a brief glance that confirms his soulmate is still alive and out there, but nowadays he doesn’t trace the words with his fingertips anymore. 

Instead the 15 minutes would be checking Kevin’s email to him. Raymond doesn’t know when they have mutually settled in this arrangement, but when he wakes up there will be a short email waiting in his inbox that was sent last night. It has a simple good morning followed by an author Kevin recommends, and sometimes there’s a short summary, sometimes it’s just the title with a link to a pdf. It always ends with “Yours, Kevin Cozner.”

Raymond doesn’t remember when he had confined to Kevin about his soulmate’s recommendation, but he had and Kevin had gone out of his way to do this. 

From there his day continues like usual, going to work and doing his job right. It’s crime solving and paperwork the whole morning, until noon.

During lunch is when there’s another shift. Usually he would be reading what his soulmate has decided on for the day, or simply have his lunch in a comfortable silence. Now he uses the time to craft back a thank you email to Kevin, recommending something from his own interest and hoping Kevin’s day has been good and will continue to be so. It takes him 2 emails later than Kevin’s to end it with “Yours, Raymond Holt” but now he never fails to include the phrase.

If their schedule works out, they will meet up after work and get dinner together. Raymond wishes it can happen more frequently, but his works never stop and he can only imagine how busy Kevin is. His partner has mentioned a book he’s going to start writing soon, and Raymond wouldn’t want to intrude. He knows he hates it when someone interrupts his workflow, and he is rather sure that Kevin agrees with the notion.

So when Kevin asks him to go to the library with him, Raymond’s surprised.

He, naturally, spends the rest of the day worrying. It’s a library, it should not be that big of a deal. But if he knows Kevin, and Raymond likes to think after multiple dates that he does, Kevin might as well have asked him to accompany back to the bedroom. The stray thought makes him flush, his throat suddenly dry and Raymond coughs quietly.

His efficiency for the rest of the work day is, without a doubt, suffering but Raymond thinks this is a well deserved situation.

* * *

He knows the Columbia University library is one of the top five academic library systems in North America, and for a moment he feels small again. The Latin slip up was at a park where there was no one around, but here, in the middle of scholars and professors, of people like Kevin…

Kevin who looks at home in the library. He’s surrounded by a computer and multiple opened books as well as pages, some blank and some filled with neat handwriting in black ink. His eyes flicker between the screen and the book before looking back at the paper and writing down notes about subjects that Raymond is far less knowledgeable in.

“Ah, Raymond,” Kevin says, startling him in the process and he realises he has just been standing in front of Kevin like an idiot. God damn it. “I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“Apology not needed,” he answers, sitting down opposite Kevin. “I would not want to disturb you anyway.”

“Nonsense. I did invite you here after all,” Kevin waves his words off. “I hope you don’t mind me asking us to meet here.”

“Au contraire, professor. This is quite a location, if I do say so myself.”

“So it is,” Kevin shrugs like he’s not sitting in one of the top ten nation’s largest libraries by volumes held. “Do you have anything you want to read then?”

“I was hoping for some recommendations from a certain someone,” Raymond teases. Kevin chuckles softly, and all worry washes away. “His selection of books have been brilliant lately, and I’m sure this time it won’t be any different.”

“Well, this certain someone sounds like a nice fellow. Perhaps I should meet him at some point to chat about Livy and Cicero.”

“Perhaps you should. But in the meantime, I suppose I will have to trust your judgement.”

“My judgement will be heavily dependent on your fluency in Greek then.”

Raymond pauses. Is this a test? “While I am fluent in Modern Greek, Ancient text is not the same.”

“Though from what I know, the basic core of the language stays the same. Demotic has simplified grammar and accents, and the vocabulary has, naturally, changed overtime but speakers can still understand the text,” Kevin shrugs, standing up and looking at him with amusement in his eyes. “I have heard that attempt at translation often leads to tragic misinterpretation.”

Raymond holds back a gasp. “Kevin, are you asking me to badly translate a piece of classic text?”

“Well, I have been assigned to teach a group of undergraduates about the Ancient World of Greece rather unexpectedly, and I would not say no to any methods to keep me going.”

His Kevin is a fiend, oh no. He can feel his face heating up and fights back the urge to hold Kevin’s hand in the middle of the library. “Who am I to say no to that request?”

“You would be someone who doesn’t respect the work of Aeschylus and Aristophanes,” Kevin replies easily. 

Before Raymond can even formulate a proper response back, Kevin has already moved away. He wonders what book will Kevin bring back, and will he be familiar with the title. Raymond sure hopes so, or else Kevin will have ruined a monumental piece for him forever with this little exercise.

Kevin asking him to do a bad translation is one thing, and him agreeing is another.

Raymond sighs, reaching for one of Kevin’s papers. He might as well do some light reading of actual good writing, and Kevin’s writing surely won’t disappoint.

The first few paragraphs talk about Bede’s account of the poet Caedmon, and reading about the first Old English poetry composed in Germanic alliterative proves to be entertaining. Kevin’s analysis is on point and his citation is to die for, and there’s a certain degree of familiarity in reading his partner’s work.

There’s similarities in Kevin’s speech pattern and his writing, and if Raymond concentrates he can practically hear Kevin’s voice explaining Caedmon’s Hymn. There’s Kevin’s handwriting that is mesmerising to look at, from the curve of the y and the tittle of the i.

Wait.

He looks up, making sure Kevin is not in the immediate vicinity before carefully inches his sleeve up. And he tries to only look at the first few letters, enough to confirm or deny his suspicions but there’s a burning curiosity and Raymond just has to know.

“What are you doing to me?” his words read, in the exact same handwriting. Not just the y and i, but how spaced out every word is, the little flick at the end of each letter, everything. 

It couldn’t possibly be, right? 

Raymond knows soulmarks are like fingerprints, it’s unique from person to person, perfectly designed to reflect your soulmate. He has seen words written in flourishing calligraphies, in scribbling chicken scratch, words only in capital and lowercase, the list goes on and on.

This can not be a coincidence. And if it’s not, that means he is Kevin’s soulmate. And that means that Kevin is his soulmate.

Kevin is still not back, he’s really taking his time to find a book for Raymond. Not that he knows how long it has been, everything gets distorted when the recent discovery settles in. They’re soulmate, Raymond is 98% sure they’re soulmate. He has not heard his sentence from Kevin today, but he and Kevin do have a whole night ahead. 

Maybe he should wait until Kevin says his words to break the news. There’s no need to ring any false alarm just yet, not when he knows Kevin’s feelings for soulmates. His partner and potential-soulmate would appreciate actual concrete evidence as opposed to similar handwriting that might be a red herring after all.

And then what happens next, happens, Raymond supposes. But for now, he is still in the library, clutching Kevin’s notes like a lifeline and waiting for him to come back with a piece of literature to commit blasphemy to. He relaxes his hold, checking if there’s any crumbled edge that he might have caused and gets caught up with Kevin’s handwriting again. 

The cursive really does look elegant, and on reflection, fits Kevin. It takes him longer than admitted to actually stop admiring but fortunately, it is before Kevin’s return. 

“I’m terribly sorry for the delay,” Kevin sighs, sitting back down tiredly. “Though I see you have busied yourself with Bede instead.”

“It is a fascinating read. I love the comparison you’ve made between it and the strictly composed Beowulf.”

Kevin smiles modestly. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I do,” he affirms. “Though Bede aside, I see you have chosen a book.”

“Not my first choice, sadly. Seven Against Thebes is already being used at the moment, as is The Persians.”

“A shame,” Raymond nods understandingly like he actually recognised the names Kevin just listed. His interest in literature has never gone that far back in time. “So what is this book then?”

“This here is The Wasps, by Aristophanes, the master of Old Comedy.”

He blinks owlishly at the book. “You picked a comedy?”

“One that is considered to be one of the world’s greatest comedies, yes.”

“And you think my purposely horrible translation will alleviate one of the greatest comedies?” 

“Not in particular, this is my third choice after all. It would be entertaining to listen to your rendition of Aeschylus’s works, but like I said, those are sadly unavailable right now. Though maybe the Orestes trilogy is still up for grab.”

Raymond hums. “Perhaps for a later date then?”

“Perhaps.”

* * *

There’s something awfully domestic about watching Kevin trying to stifle his laughter as he makes his way through the play. Even Raymond himself is unsure about what it is exactly talking about, and he will have to ask Kevin for a proper plot summary later, but the content is insignificant and infinitesimal to Kevin’s delight.

“For half-hearted reasons and love of monarchy,” he reads, and Kevin giggles. At this point the research Kevin was doing is discarded to the side, all attention is focused on him and Raymond dreads the end of the play. “Will the crown be heard without food?”

“Maybe doing this here was a mistake,” Kevin sighs, leaning back on his seat. “You can’t honestly expect me to not make a ruckus when this is happening.”

“It was your idea.”

“I underestimated how terrible the translation would be. Honestly, I’m surprised there even is a narrative in your rendition, Raymond. Or what’s left of the narrative anyway.”

“You will have to lend me a properly translated version at some point then, because this is not making much sense to me either,” Raymond says, gesturing at the book. “I’m sadly missing out on one of the world’s greatest comedies, your word.”

“I have a verse translation by Benjamin B. Rogers back at my place, if you’re interested.”

Raymond pauses. The thought from before returns with full force, and he clears his throat again. “Is that a proposition, professor?”

Kevin blushes. It’s a good look, his usually pale skin tinting red. “I-“

And Kevin is also speechless. He marvels at the effect his words have on the normally composed Kevin, taking in everything. “It doesn’t have to, but if it is, I would not have any objection.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Kevin echoes his words slowly. He’s fidgeting with his watch, tapping on the strap in an unfamiliar rhythm. “I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t mean- Well, I suppose…”

“Kevin,” he says softly, and Kevin stops the tapping. “It’s fine if you don’t want to.”

“I know,” Kevin sighs. “My hesitation stems from nervousness. I do not want to mess this up, for lack of better words.”

He nods mutely, letting Kevin think through his words. They’re still sitting in the library, there are still people around but right now his world only focuses on Kevin.

“You are very important to me, Raymond.” 

It’s always implied in everything Kevin does, an unsaid undertones but hearing it in full sends him up to cloud nine. Raymond can’t stop a smile there, wouldn’t want to anyway because Kevin likes his smile and his everything else. 

He almost says I love you back as a reply. The mood certainly fits for such a declaration, one that he has known for a while. He, Raymond Holt, loves Kevin Cozner. 

Almost. “Σ'αγαπάω, λατρεία μου.”

Because love doesn’t even begin to describe it, and for now, in the moment, agape will have to do.

“And whatever does that mean?”

“I’m surprised you don’t pick out the verb there, considering it is from one of the books you have recommended.”

Kevin averts his gaze. “I do have to admit that a few of the books are more from my friends’ own recommendation list than from me. Professor Broadhead in particular is responsible for the more Greece literature while Doctor Perlman’s picks are more philosophical.”

“And here I am, thinking this is all from you,” he teases. “I’m disappointed, Kevin.”

“You did say you want to read more Ancient Greece!”

“To be able to keep up with you in conversation, yes.”

“Raymond!” Kevin gasps. In return he raises an eyebrow at Kevin, kind of mirroring Kevin’s own trademark though Raymond’s sure his is much less elegant. “You don’t have to. Honestly, if it isn’t your cup of tea you could have said something.”

“It is outside of my usual range of literature, but it certainly is not horrible.”

“Well, I suppose I will have to trust your judgement on that then. But back to the actual topic at hand, what did you say?”

Raymond glances around at the library. He’s sure the people here are civilised and educated, but not sure enough to jeopardise Kevin’s reputation without prior discussion. “I will tell you at a more private location, so to say.”

“But of course,” Kevin nods in understanding. “I’m sure your place or mine would do well for that purpose.”

“Oh?”

It’s Kevin’s turns to smirk, leaning just a bit closer toward him. “It is a proposition, detective.”

That sentence plays in his head for the rest of the day, even after they part way at the end of the night. Even the fact that Kevin did not say his words (that’s not a hard no on his hypothesis, Kevin did not spend 24/7 with him after all) doesn’t weight the mood down and Raymond doubts anything can. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, welcome to the endnotes which hopefully won’t be too long, but we’ll see:
> 
> 1\. Raymond finally found out that he and Kevin might actually be soulmates! Finally! It’s him finding that out through a bit of an unconventional way, but hey, Raymond can have a little handwriting-admiring, as a treat. He also decides to not say anything, so there’s also that... not sure if that’s a good or bad thing yet, so we’ll just have to wait and see.
> 
> And yes, Kevin writes in those beautiful cursive that you don’t just lift your pen in the middle of a word and when he has to rush the cursive becomes illegible to anyone beside him. Think Russian cursive. 
> 
> 2\. Moving on, this chapter’s unlucky piece of literature’s The Wasps, which is considered one of the greatest comedies. And I used google translate on the thing to get that one line, so take that, important play written by the Prince of Ancient Comedy.
> 
> (To be fair, before that I did read through one of the available translation, but it’s not really my taste. And while choosing a random line from an official translation is an option, why do that when you have google? There are also other lines that are more hilarious translated, but Kevin would laugh at an actual kind of make sense sentence, soooo)
> 
> 3\. Speaking of translating stuff, you can easily translate what Raymond said by a quick copy paste so I’ll just quickly do it for you: I love you, my adored one. 
> 
> He did also mention using agape specifically because of a book, and that will be talked more about next chapter so look forward to that :D 
> 
> And as usual, I hope that you enjoy this chapter! See you soon


	5. “And I don’t care about what Fate may have decreed.”

The agreement is to meet at Raymond’s apartment at a later date instead, one that couldn’t come sooner. The day before is spent cleaning up his place, though there isn’t much to sort through. But Raymond makes sure the apartment is spotless anyway, not a speck of dust lingers on any surfaces. 

This is Kevin coming over, he has to make a good impression. 

It takes him another hour debating with himself whether or not to leave certain books on display, would Rimbaud be fitting? Or should he go with Toni Morrison? 

In the end, he leaves the bookshelves as they are. This is still his taste, he should not try to change it to please Kevin. He would not want Kevin to do that for him either. 

Everything is fine as it is, Raymond’s sure.

Still, when he hears a knock on his door exactly on time, he worries. Would Kevin judge him for having Virginia Woolf that far down, or maybe he would not appreciate the paintings hung around the apartment. 

Deep breath, Raymond tells himself. He walks briskly to the door, methodically unlocking it and swinging it open to see Kevin. He’s in a white dress shirt with green sweater that brings out his eyes even more, and Raymond swallows. Kevin looks perfect, as usual.

“Good evening, Kevin. I hope your trip here was enjoyable,” He croaks out, hoping his voice doesn’t shake. 

“It was a bit cold. Perhaps I should not have forgone my coat,” Kevin answers him, amused. His voice did shake then. “The inside does look significantly warmer.”

“Oh, of course,” he stammers, letting Kevin in and quickly closing the door behind. And then there’s only he and Kevin. Together, alone. 

“Please make yourself at home. Can I fetch you a drink?”

“Just water would be fine, thank you,” Kevin hums, distracted as he looks around. Raymond lingers, watching Kevin taking in the new surrounding before moving to the kitchen.

A cup of lukewarm water is what he needs right now. He downs it quickly, refilling the two glasses again and walks back out before it gets too obvious that he’s hiding out of nervousness. 

Kevin has already sat down on the couch, hands folded on the translation he has bought with, looking right at home.

“You’ve got a nice place, Raymond,” Kevin compliments him though his eyes are staying firm on Raymond.“Honestly, I can only wish my interior looks as good as this.”

“I’m sure you’re undermining yourself,” he says, passing Kevin the cup of water before his grip on it is tight enough to shatter the thing. 

“It’s quite a clutter that I need to get sorted out, but that’s a matter for later. We have more pressing things at hand right now after all.”

Before Raymond can ask for an explanation, Kevin’s already inching closer to him, his hands moving up to wrap around Raymond’s neck. 

Oh, pressing things at hand indeed.

They have gone out a lot of time, sure, but this level of affection is uncharted territory. PDA is not to his or Kevin’s best interest, but right now, with Kevin so close he can feel the body warmth, Raymond wonders how has he held out from this for so long? Too long, to be more accurate. 

“Can I kiss you?” Raymond asks. 

Kevin gives him a raised eyebrow with a bland look that Raymond interprets as “Do you have to ask such an useless question? Especially when you’ve already known the answer?” But his answer comes in the form of contact.

Raymond can hardly describe the kiss, his own vocabulary significantly reduced as it draws out, longer but at the same time, not long enough. 

He can say this at least: It’s slow, it’s a bit hesitant, it’s unbearably warm. And it’s the best kiss Raymond has ever experienced. Maybe because of the emotion he’s pouring into it that Kevin requites, maybe because it’s Kevin himself.

When Raymond pulls back for air, missing the sensation already, the room is considerably blurrier. His mind’s clouded and his body’s lighter than before. He honestly feels like he’s floating, and Kevin’s grip is the only thing anchoring him back right now.

Kevin, with his usually neat hair mused, his breathing coming out in faster gasp, his fingers still tracing up and down Raymond’s neck subconsciously. “I have been wanting to do that for so long,” Kevin confesses. “Forgive the suddenness of it all, but I can’t seem to control myself around you.”

“Δε σε χορταίνω,” Raymond whispers, not missing Kevin’s shivers at his change of language, not at this close of a distance, not when Kevin is the only thing he’s focused on. 

“And what does that mean?” 

“I cannot have enough of you.”

Kevin giggles. It sounds, dare Raymond thinks, better than Kavakos or anything he has ever heard. “Dhe se horteno? Did I get that right?”

And then hearing Kevin saying it back, echoing Raymond’s words as best as he can with minimum experience in Greek is like getting shot point blank. He can’t help the joyful chuckle at that point, his shoulders shaking.

“Oh, is it that bad?” Kevin asks, embarrassed but also amused, also adoring, also looking at Raymond like he’s Kevin’s world. “Raymond!”

“No no, it’s perfect. Honestly.”

Kevin hums, his head tilting at a small angle. “Say something else, please?”

And who is Raymond to say no? “Είμαι τρελή για 'σένα.”

“Eeme trelee ghia 'sena?”

“I am crazy for you. Είσαι η λατρεία μου.”

“Eese ee latreea moo- the last words sound familiar,” Kevin points out. “Isn’t that what you said in the library?”

“Accurate observation. The whole sentence means you are my adored one, and the last words, I would assume you can guess from there.”

“My adored one, good heavens. What else have you been saying about me that I don’t know, detective?”

“Nothing bad, I assure you.” 

“But of course,” Kevin says teasingly. “What was it that you said then?”

“Σ'αγαπάω, λατρεία μου?” he asks, and Kevin nods. “That translates to I love you, my adored one.”

“Oh-” Kevin clears his throat, his eyes flickering away for a brief moment. But he doesn't move away, doesn’t refute the statement, and for that Raymond’s grateful. “Is that so?”

“It is.”

“And the verb from a book?”

“Agape and Eros, by Anders Nygren,” he answers dutifully. “One that I recently learned is not something you recommended.”

Kevin chuckles, though Raymond can tell it’s not quite the same laugh he’s used to. This one’s more distracted, not quite here nor there. Which is fair enough, he supposes, seeing how he has just confessed his love aloud. 

“A book about love certainly sounds like something Doctor Perlman would recommend.”

“Yes, it is about the connotations of two ancient Greek words for love, eros and agape,” he continues. Kevin looks at him with curiosity and attention again, and it’s like their position is reversed. Usually Kevin’s the professor, it is literally his occupation, but right now Kevin looks so much younger, like a freshman in his first class again. It’s strangely cute, Raymond thinks.

“Do go on, Raymond,” Kevin says with a tone of impatience. Freshman in his first class indeed, eager to learn more.

“Nygren argues that eros is an egocentric and acquisitive kind of love, needs-based and desire-based. When we love out of eros, we love out of self-interest and in order to acquire and possess the object of our love. This form of love received its classic expression in the philosophy of Plato, particularly in his dialogue The Symposium.”

“The Symposium, of course,” Kevin mutters under his breath, and Raymond wonders if Kevin’s aware he’s doing that. “Plato and his speeches to praise the god of love and desire.”

“Yes,” he agrees, making a note to borrow a copy of the Symposium as soon as possible. “Now agape, by contrast, is a self-giving and self-sacrificial kind of love. When we love out of agape we reject all self-gain and interest, and surrender ourselves to the other and love them purely for themselves.”

Raymond pauses. He can hear the cogs and gears turning in Kevin’s head as he processes the words said, and so for now Raymond waits. It is a lot of information that he has just given Kevin, both emotionally and academically after all.

Kevin takes a deep breath, in and out. He pulls his hands away (Raymond instantly misses the warmth) to take a hold of Raymond’s hands instead (Everything is right in the world again) and gives him an intense look.

Kevin’s eyes are very blue. He can get lost in them for hours on end, Raymond’s sure. 

“I have been thinking the past few days,” Kevin starts, his words slower than his normal talking speed. “If you mean what you said, then in that case, I love you too. In the manner of agape, I love you for yourself, for your everything. And I don’t care about what Fate may have decreed. Far as I concern, I won’t be leaving you for anyone.”

And all Raymond can do is stare at Kevin. The words don't take long to sink in, not when Kevin has put it down clearly like that. 

I love you for yourself, soulmates be damned. 

And isn’t that what Raymond has always wanted? To be loved for him and himself only, to love back with the same intensity.

There’s a small voice in the back of his head reminding him of the discovery that Kevin might actually be his soulmate, but Raymond couldn’t care less about it right now. What difference would it make anyway, and does it really matter that much? Who cares about the words on his forearm when Kevin is here with him, solid and real? 

“Σ'αγαπάω,” Raymond repeats. And this time Kevin understands, and the hand holding suddenly means a little something more.

Later they will enjoy the translation with Linde playing in the background, but for now, all he can focus on is this moment. 

Soulmates be damned indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s a shorter chapter, but this one packs quite a lot huh? As usual, welcome to your usual long endnotes, courtesy of my rambling:
> 
> 1\. They finally kiss! And then they be soft together on the couch, talking sweet nothing in Greek. Which, by the by, I’m sorry to anyone who actually know Greek. I hope I got all that lovely declarations correct.
> 
> 2\. This chapter’s unlucky book is Agape and Eros, by Anders Nygren. The discussion in the book has a lot more religious note regarding God and otherwise (the original Swedish title is The Christian idea of love through the ages so that should tell you enough), but I leave that whole thing out. Religion is a whole thing on its own, much less religion in a soulmate AU. Whilst it would be a fun topic to explore, let’s not unpack all of this right now.
> 
> 3\. Kevin rly says “fuck soulmate” to his soulmate’s face and I think that is very sexy of him. 
> 
> But talking about that, would this be a good point to end the fic? Or would you guys want to see them actually finding out that they are soulmates? I’d love to hear your thoughts on this one, cause I’m not quite sure myself on how to proceed. 
> 
> As usual, I hope this chapter is one you enjoyed! See you soon :D


	6. "We’re soulmates"

Kevin asks, proposes, to him on a Sunday morning, five years into their relationship. It’s in a form of the presentation of the financial benefits of marriage, extensively researched with citations, and citations for said citations.

Citations for citations.

Raymond would be a fool to say no.

* * *

Raymond’s introduced to Martin three years prior to the proposal. Martin’s who is finishing up his education to go further into dentistry, with ambitious plans to open up his own establishment. 

Martin’s nice, easy-going and smart, and Raymond should focus on the ongoing conversation but all he can think of is his sentence, once upon a time ago.

“This is a trivial question, Martin. But if you must know, I prefer canine,” plays on repeat in his mind, along with several other sentences with Martin mentioned. He almost wants to speak up, confesses and apologizes for keeping this discovery a secret but backtracks last minutes like he has been doing the past two years.

It is an obvious fact, to Raymond at least, that they’re soulmates at this point. Two years, 730 days of being together and Kevin has said his sentence 267 times in Raymond’s present and counting. It’s concrete proof.

He’s not sure why he didn’t just tell Kevin that they match at this point. It certainly will be easier, not keeping a secret. 

Instead, Raymond slowly introduces the topic of a pet into their conversation later in the evening, relaxing in their newly purchased apartment. A trip to the nearby rescue centre is scheduled for the weekend, and Kevin gives him a two seconds longer than usual kiss as a thank you.

* * *

Raymond knows Cheddar is going to be named Cheddar before he even sees their future pet. While he had stopped checking his sentences on a daily basis, sometimes curiosity still got the best of him. And maybe the idea of adopting a dog is more nerve-wracking than Raymond has anticipated, and fidgeting with his hands has turned to inching the sleeves up and then turned to him seeing the cursive words against his skin.

“Good boy, Mr. Cheddar,” says the sentence of the day. 

It can just be a throwaway line, seeing how there will be more than one dog at the centre and he and Kevin will possibly have to shift through several choices before coming to the final conclusion but for some reason, Raymond knows Cheddar will be a part of their household. 

Raymond also knows Kevin’s excited for today, his partner having gotten up 5 minutes earlier than their usual designated time during the weekend.

The trip to the rescue centre is quick, but the time spent there is longer than Raymond has predicted. He has also not predicted the cause of the extra time to be himself, but today he learns that plans are usually thrown out of the window when faced with cute animals.

He wants to adopt them all, despite knowing that that’s illogical and impractical. 

Kevin has to be the one that ranges him back, being the voice of reason. Kevin’s voice, Raymond also learns today, is stronger than any puppy dog gazes could be except when said gaze comes from Kevin himself. It’s common knowledge that saying no to Kevin is unusually hard, after all.

The third fact that Raymond learns today that while saying no to Kevin normally is hard enough as it is, saying no to Kevin while he’s holding a corgi is nigh impossible. 

The corgi gives a small bark, and Raymond’s heart figuratively melts. 

“How do you feel about this one, Raymond?” Kevin asks but his eyes are glued to the corgi instead of looking at him. 

He can only mutely nod, and the paperwork is dealt with accordingly. Kevin comes up with the name: Cheddar, based on the Cheddar Man who was found in the aptly named Cheddar Gorge in Cheddar, Somerset which also contains the Cheddar Wood, Cheddar Complex and Cheddar Reservoir.

Any coincidence of Cheddar’s fur colour with the similarly named cheese is merely a coincidence, of course.

* * *

Cheddar’s a perfect fit, Raymond thinks as he read Illuminations, by Rimbaud aloud. It is by far Cheddar’s favourite author based on how he’s looking attentively at Raymond with his tongue hanging out, happy and content.

Though Raymond thinks Cheddar just has a taste for French literature in general and can’t tell the difference between Rimbaud and, say, Corbière. Which is a shame, but Cheddar is still just a dog.

A very well behaved, well trained and spoiled dog. 

“Are you reading Cheddar Rimbaud again?” Kevin asks as he walks into the room. 

“Yes. It is imperative that Cheddar is knowledgeable with his works,” Raymond answers, watching as Kevin crouches down and gives Cheddar a small scratch behind his ear. “He seems to have taken a liking to Rimbaud especially.”

“Of course he has,” Kevin chuckles. “Your pronunciation is improving with all of this practice.”

“Nowhere near as good as yours, of course,” he shoots back. 

“You’re just putting yourself down now.”

“It’s the truth, and nothing but the truth.”

Kevin gives him a doubtful look, completed with a raised eyebrow, but he doesn’t add anything to the conversation. So Raymond shrugs and continues reading from where he has let off, this time to an audience of two.

* * *

There’s something about watching Kevin making offhanded remakes about potentially writing a piece about open-mindedness and acceptance in the NYPD for the New Yorker to his colleagues that makes Raymond stand straighter. It’s a subtle threat, one that Raymond thinks would have flies over considering his team’s intelligence (or lack thereof) but it does the job.

Honestly, Raymond’s more worried that Kevin will start making threats regarding bodily harm. And while the look on their face would have been priceless, they are still officers. 

Raymond doubts that Kevin casually naming organs and bones (courtesy of being friends with a doctor, the lesser kind of course,) would pass by that easily. But right now, at this party, standing in the corner with no exact conversation partner, he can imagine the scene to the best of his ability at least.

He does have to sweep in at some point and, while making sure most people are watching, takes Kevin’s hand in his. The wives giggle, Kevin seems to have made good enough acquaintance with them to put up a show of protest but ultimately let himself be pulled away.

“You seem to be having a fun night,” Raymond says, surprising himself with how bitter that comes out.

“Au contraire,” Kevin replies tiredly. “It’s horrible putting up with your coworkers, Raymond. I want to expose them to enough radiation to find out exactly how many bones they have, then break all of it slowly.”

Hot damn. “That’s rather extreme, even for you.”

“You would think in a world where soulmates are nonfiction people would have had more acceptance. There are couples of all genders and sexuality and we still have to have this discussion.”

It’s rare to hear the word soulmates from Kevin, though he doesn’t voice that thought aloud. His forearm tingles, sending a jolt of heat through his body and he does his best to ignore it. “Trying to be logical to certain groups is a lost cause, I’m afraid.”

Kevin sighs. “I know.”

“Should I go and fetch you some more wine?”

“Yes please.”

* * *

He has met Martin, so it’s only logical for him to introduce Kevin to Debbie, dreaded to do so as he is.

He can see an overwhelming afternoon as she drones on about whatever gossip she has, and he will put up with it because that’s how they work, because Debbie also puts up with his own rant when they were younger before they go back to hating each other while also willing to commit a murder for each other.

Not that Raymond would trust Debbie with covering up a murder, but it’s the thought that count.

Debbie comes in like a hurricane, her mouth running so fast that he’s worried she isn’t getting enough air between words. Her talking speed certainly has increased, or maybe it’s the excitement to meet Kevin.

He had said sorry to Kevin last night, prior to the meeting. Now, actually seeing Debbie here, Raymond wants to lean over and apologise again.

Turns out he doesn’t have to, not when Kevin and Debbie, somehow, get along like a house on fire. 

It’s a miracle the house itself doesn’t burn out as Kevin and Debbie bake, actually. It’s a simple recipe, the Gâteau au Yaourt and he has a feeling Kevin chooses it because it is so easy. Kevin has said in the passing that it’s “the perfect basic cake recipe that never fails and never disappoints,” to quote his partner. So he doesn’t know how, 15 minutes later Kevin walks out of the kitchen, flour sticking on his hair and apron with a look that Raymond doesn’t dare comment on. 

He doesn’t want to risk facing a death sentence, or worse, the guest bedroom to even elude that Kevin has a look of enjoyment at having flour in his hair. Flour. In his hair. 

Kevin takes a moment in the bathroom to fix himself up, before rushing back with his hair wet and slicked back in a way that makes Raymond want to follow Kevin to the kitchen.

And then he hears Debbie’s devilish laughter, Kevin’s yelp, a suspicious crashing noise and decides to stay put in his seat, eyeing the fire extinguisher every time there’s a particularly loud noise coming from the hopefully intact kitchen. 

35 minutes later both of them emerge, looking worse for wear. He hears Kevin muttering how Debbie can mess the simplest of measurement up in a recipe that specifically doesn’t put heavy emphasis on measurement, but it’s in a fond voice. Then he speaks up about how the cake will be ready to be served after it has cooled, and promises Raymond that he will clean the kitchen up later.

Raymond doesn’t miss how Kevin politely declines Debbie’s offer to help and is glad that his partner has learned enough during their short bonding time to not accept. 

“I like this one,” Debbie says with a wild look in her eyes, her hair absolutely ruined with a matching tint of white flour and...eggshells. And she smells strong of vanilla. “He’s a keeper.”

“That I am,” Kevin agrees, preening under the compliment. “Come on, let me show you the guest bathroom, and we can hopefully salvage your makeup.”

He doesn’t know Kevin knows anything about makeup. Before Raymond can ask Debbie has already shot him a wink and whisk Kevin away to their next destination. So not only does he have to worry about a potentially burning kitchen, but he also has to worry about a potentially flooding bathroom. Perfect. 

At least the cake is good, light and airy and surprisingly edible considering that Debbie has a helping hand. He loves his sister, but she’s horrible in the kitchen and not even their mother can salvage the mess. 

Oh, he still has to introduce Kevin to his mother. This worries him even more, because while Debbie is, well, Debbie, his mother is another beast on her own.

* * *

“Wine tasting?” Kevin asks with a raised eyebrow and Raymond nods. “Well, that’s a new suggestion. Any reason why?”

“I merely want us to try out something new,” he replies vaguely. Kevin hums, turning his attention back to the current crossword puzzle. “Will that be a problem?”

“I’m sure you know I don’t hold my wine very well, dear.”

Raymond doesn’t know that. “Not to worry, I will be there with you.” And so will my mother. But Kevin doesn’t know that just yet, nor will he know until the end of the night, a specific request from her.

He’s not too well acquainted with wine tasting terms, but his mother saying something about blind tasting is enough clue for Raymond to guess what will happen. 

Not to worry, said the worried one in the room.

“I won’t then,” Kevin replies easily. “What time are we leaving?”

* * *

He should be more focused on wine tasting, seeing how they’re in a wine tasting club, but Kevin has asked him about oak barrels and who is Raymond to not discuss barrels with Kevin? 

“Depending upon a multitude of factors, including the type of oak, the way the barrels were made, the age of the barrels, the level of char and the way the winemaker has mixed and matched them,” Raymond says, and Kevin nods in understanding. “Barrels can impart a vast array of scents and flavours to finished wines. Think of the barrels as a winemaker’s colour palette, to be used the way a painter uses tubes of paint.”

“That’s some very interesting insight,” Kevin compliments him softly. “And it also explains the oak scent then.”

“Of course. What else is there?”

“Something more on the citrusy side, also spice and allspice. Cloves too.”

“And what of the taste?”

“We’ll find out, won’t we?” Kevin asks, giving his glass a last swirl before taking a drink. 

He takes advantage of the few seconds where Kevin’s more focused on the white wine to make eye contact with his mother across the room. A nod’s all that’s exchanged, and Raymond turns back to Kevin.

“It appears that I am in need of the facility here, please excuse me.”

Kevin lets him go easily, and from there it’s even easier to duck out of Kevin’s sight and situated himself at a better corner, watching as Laverne approaches the target. 

He’s under direct order to not interfere until called for, but there isn’t anything said about keeping an eye on the situation unfolding.

Within minutes of conversation, Laverne links her arm with Kevin’s. That’s a good sign. So far so good, good enough to soothe some of his worry down. 

There’s nothing to be worried about in the first place, Raymond thinks to himself. Kevin is, well, Kevin and there’s absolutely no doubt that his partner can sweep anyone off the feet just like he did with Raymond. He’s just being irrational, maybe the wine has gotten to him. Being intoxicated has never been his favourite state of being.

More conversations, and even from here he thinks he can see a sense of approval from mother. Kevin’s enjoying himself at least, looking relaxed talking to the judge of the Federal Appeals Justice for the 9th Circuit. Maybe Kevin doesn’t know, Raymond doesn't think he has taken much interest in the law beside Athens one.

Exactly 7 minutes and 46 seconds and counting later, his mother gets his attention with a very well-directed nod at him, and Raymond walks over.

“Ah, Raymond,” Kevin greets. “Your mother here, who is delightful by the by, has just been talking about your graph making assignment back in first grade.”

Oh, they are already at that stage. 

“I’m sure you can ask Debbie for more photographic proof,” Laverne continues. 

Oh no, they’re far past that stage. Raymond watches as his partner and his mother trade looks, having a silent conversation in a matter of seconds before turning back to look at him.

* * *

Meeting his mother has gone wonderfully, even if in the end Raymond has to carefully guide a tipsy Kevin out. 

Meeting Kevin’s parents, on the other hand...

“You will move past this phrase, Kevin,” Mr. Cozner says, not even batting a look at Raymond. 

Beside him Mrs. Cozner nods. Beside Raymond, Kevin frowns.

“Father, with all due respect, this is not a phrase as you do eloquently put it,” Kevin says, and to add to his point, Kevin intertwines their hands. “I love Raymond.”

“You’re not thinking straight.”

He’s not straight, Raymond privately thinks, and holds back a chuckle. Kevin will love that joke, and the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Cozner has previously privately told him that he has turned Kevin gay with his “magical genitalia.” It will be a good story to tell in the car, one that will no doubt lighten Kevin’s day up after hitting this low. 

Kevin sighs. He looks at Raymond then, with a look that’s apologetic and curious and scared. 

“We’re soulmates.”

Raymond blinks. Kevin has said it with such conviction that it’s clear this isn’t a tactical lie to spite his parents, which means Kevin knows.

Kevin knows. When did he find out, how long has he known, why did he not tell Raymond? The last question is terribly hypocritical of him, but right now all logical reasonable thoughts are thrown out of the window.

Because Kevin knows that they are soulmates, Kevin had just said it aloud to a third party that they’re soulmates, they’re soulmates.

“You’re lying,” Mrs. Cozner smirks, though it’s shaky. She’s in disbelief as is Raymond right now.

Kevin, in response, takes off his watch. 

Over two years and Raymond has never seen Kevin’s wrist properly. There’s always something there, a watch or a hand band that hides the words and Raymond doesn’t push. If Kevin’s not comfortable with him seeing his words then who is Raymond to disrespect his wish?

But now, taking in the perfectly typed Ariel, it’s no surprise that Kevin knows. Beside the times they have shared together, Kevin must know his preferred font setting at this point.

“You’re very aesthetically pleasing, Kevin,” Kevin reads the words aloud with a smug smile. “Said this morning when he helped me with my tie, if I’m not mistaken.”

Kevin’s not mistaken, not at all. Raymond remembers the conversation like it just happened seconds ago, him straightening Kevin’s tie, Kevin smiling at him, before stealing a chaste kiss. 

They’re soulmates and Raymond’s speechless. As is Mr. and Mrs. Cozner, staring at their son. 

“I distinctly remember that it was you two that said soulmates are God’s gift and you must cherish them,” his soulmate continues on. “Right after I expressed my point on soulmates. And unless you’re saying God has made a mistake, unlikely seeing the percentage of LGBTQ+ soulmate pairs, then I think we’re done here, no?”

Mr. and Mrs. Cozner say nothing. It’s undoubtedly better than when they were throwing snide comments at Kevin and talking trash about Raymond like he’s not sitting right in front of them. 

“Shall we go home and talk, Kevin?” Raymond asks pointedly. Kevin arches his eyebrow, nods and stands up. 

“We will see ourselves out then. Mother, Father,” Kevin says without glancing back as he calmly, leisurely walks out. Raymond follows, and unlike Kevin, takes a last look at the Cozners and delighted in the tense way they’re holding themselves.

* * *

”Soulmates?” Raymond asks once they’re sitting in the car. 

“Soulmates,” Kevin shrugs, putting on the seatbelt. “I had my suspicions after the first date. And as much as I hate checking my words, I can’t exactly avoid looking at my wrist my whole life. Sometimes I caught my words, and sometimes you said it.” He pauses, then adds, almost like an afterthought. “Also, I have seen my handwriting on your forearm, Raymond.”

Raymond’s mind is still processing the first sentence. “Since the first date?”

“The words were “Thank you for accepting my invitation” I believe.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“It isn’t like you said anything either,” Kevin points out. Which means that not only does Kevin know they’re soulmates, Kevin also knows that Raymond knows. “Plus, I don’t see how this will change our relationship in any way whatsoever. Or at least, any way that matters.”

“Except for the fact that we both kept secret behind each other’s back, of course.”

“It’s harmless information.”

“It’s the fact that you and I are soulmates!” Raymond couldn’t help but raised his voice this time. “Why did you think this is not important enough to bring up?”

“Because it is not,” Kevin answers easily. “I love you, I hope you love me, I really don’t see how that’s crucial information. It isn’t like you tell me you let Cheddar climb on the bed whenever I’m not home either.”

“That’s different and you know it.”

“It’s a change, an unnecessary one. But it’s not an unwelcoming one. We don’t have to be soulmates for me to continue this relationship.”

Raymond huffs. “Were you ever planning on telling me?”

Kevin shrugs again. “I was waiting for you to say something first. You are not entirely innocent here either.”

“Touché. A miscommunication from both of us then.”

“One that has been resolved, I’m hoping?” Kevin asks carefully. He’s nervous, Raymond realises, his grip on the steering wheel unnecessarily tight despite the calm tone he has been using. 

Are you mad? Raymond heard. 

“As you said, you love me and I love you,” he echoes the words. “I’m sorry for raising my voice, and for staying silent on the topic.”

“And I’m sorry for staying silent and for dropping the truth on you at the worst possible moment.”

“Miscommunication resolved,” Raymond says. “Though the phrase worst possible moment is debatable. Your parents’ reaction is something I will hold close for forever.”

Kevin laughs then, all traces of nervousness gone and leaving Raymond with a light, happy sound. “Perhaps not the worst then.”

* * *

Kevin holds his hand, cuts off the priest’s long speech with a firm “yes.” next to him on a Sunday morning, seven years into their relationship. Raymond follows suit, and without waiting for the priest to pronounce them husband, turns to Kevin and declares that they’re married.

He makes an officiant efficient quip later to Kevin, watches as Kevin breaks with laughter to the point of him wiping the tears away with his hand. 

The tears catch on the matching golden ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all want a reveal scene, so here we go! With bonus meet the family and getting Cheddar, and some proposal and marriage scenes, as a treat. I hope you know the drill by now, because it's end notes rambling time (at least there's no literature that get harmed in the making of this chapter, you're welcome)
> 
> I'm gonna skip over a lot of things here, but don't worry because (un)lucky for you we will get to revisit this topic when Kevin's POV of this chapter get posted. Yes, that is a thing, in case you have not noticed this is 6/12 chapters. 6 more chapters of the same story from the other half of this pair :D
> 
> Anyway, topic I do want to talk about in this end notes would be the reveal and aftermath scene. Kevin saying it to make a point to his homophobic parent is and has always been the only way I imagine him dropping the news, because to Kevin it isn't important until you make it out to be so. And when he's dealing with his parents...well, drastic situation calls for drastic measure. 
> 
> A special thank for mystery_deer for putting the reaction into words! Thank you for letting me steal your brillance! A last clash in opinion, an easy resolve.
> 
> There's also a bit of religion touched on this, and for me, that would be a way Chrstianity view soulmates. And a bit of a different in homophobia in general, with how more prominient the LGBTQ+ community would be. You really can't argue much with soulmark, and of course there will always be people like the Cozners who refuse to see what's right in front of them, but that's just real life anyway sooooo- 
> 
> (also writing that scene got me in a mood to do a proper coming out scene with our dads and the Cozners, so keep an eye out because that is very much in the work! Awkwardness and homophobia mixed with very specific childhood HCs, here I come.)
> 
> Anyway, I hope the reveal was satisfactory, as was the aftermath and well, everything else in this chapter. Basically, I hope this was a good read for you, and I will see you soon with the next chapter! 
> 
> Also also I have a tumblr now, because why not. I have to pour my rambling somewhere else other than the poor end notes, so head on over [@onemilisec!](https://onemilisec.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Send in asks, requests, HC, or just chill and talk :D Hope to see some of you guys over there!


	7. “Thank you for agreeing to my invitation” (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made for you, through the eye of Kevin Cozner.

Kevin Cozner hates the concept of soulmate. Period. That is what he has been thinking to himself since he has known what soulmate is, how it works, or at least, a theoretical version of how it works. There are not many scientific papers, and what is out there are more hypotheses than hard proof.

It is not the lack of a good explanation, i.e. one that isn’t “love”, that turns him off the concept of soulmate though. It’s the fact that he is supposedly fated to be with someone, that he is made to be someone’s, whoever they may be, and he can’t choose. It’s the same way he is forced to learn the piano, or forced to learn French by his parents, and now he is forced to be in love with a total stranger. 

A total stranger who is strangely formal, based off of his words. His sentence of the day, typed out like it’s from a word document, is a sole “Thank you for agreeing to my invitation” in black letters. At least his soulmate is not some rude dropout. 

Kevin sighs, forcing himself to look away from the words. Even when he disagrees with his soulmate in general, it doesn’t stop him from looking at his words when he wakes up. Some days though, some days he doesn’t even bat an eye at his wrist, putting on the watch quickly and getting on with his day. 

(Some days, when he has to stay up late to finish grading papers, late enough to watch the words delete themselves letter by letter and for a split moment his wrist is bare of words. For a split moment, Kevin wonders if it will remain blank. 

After all, It has been shown that when your soulmate dies, there will be nothing left. The last words, or well, randomly chosen sentence of the last day to be more exact, will fade when the new day comes and you are supposedly left with an ache in your chest. An empty piece that can’t be replaced. 

In the end though, there will be something new. The sentence will show itself in a respectable typing speed, and it is like staring at a google document without knowing who is typing. Kevin quickly returns his attention to the paper and gets back to work, red pen going through the analysis and leaving clear comments on the side. Marking has always been effective at taking his mind off things.)

Work is the same as ever. The only change is what he is teaching, but in a bigger picture, he is still teaching the same material. It is his students’ impression and subsequently, interpretation that makes the job exciting. No one looks at an apple the same way, and no one looks at The permeable spaces of the Athenian law-court the same way either. 

It’s relaxing and rewarding to teach, especially at Columbia. He hopes one day he will make it to head of the classic department, but for now he has classes to lecture on and a laser pointer to point. 

His morning classes pass quickly then he is free until 3. Kevin retreats back to his office when his presence isn’t required in class and sometimes a student would come in with questions outside of class, sometimes his colleagues would drop by for a chat, but usually he is left in peace. 

The silence is calming as he glances at his stack of papers that he needs to look through and a half-dozen things he needs to get done by 5. Emails to reply to, and on today’s occasion, a piece that needs to be written up. Working for The New Yorker has its advantage: free subscription is the biggest one, then getting to talk to fellow writers and making acquaintances that might turn into friends. 

And it is free practice and experience. Kevin would be a fool to pass that up, and whilst he admits that he might act rash in some moments, he’s not that far gone yet.

Its disadvantage for the day that makes him sigh is having to interview an officer in the New York police department. How bothersome. He doesn’t hate interviews, but interviewing cops is a different territory altogether. All of them always have to bring up the gruesome, unnecessary crude “shop talk” instead of answering his questions straight away, and it is...annoying. 

Still, work is work. It won’t stop Kevin from expressing his displeasure to his friends later, but for now, he has a case to do some basic research on before dialing the number provided at the end of the email to ask for the lead detective who works on the case.

The lead detective whose name is Raymond Holt, an up and coming officer in precinct seventy-eighth. A few old cold cases solved under his belt, or at the very least, public ones that Kevin can find. He also found a picture of said detective, his intense gaze staring into the camera. Intimidating, Kevin thinks.

He’s going to have to interview this man. At least he looks like he would rather get everything done quickly, or so Kevin hopes. Still, he procrastinates the call by going through the homework he assigned last week, nitpicking answers to take his mind out of things. The lack of trivial error in the work should make him proud, but right now, Kevin allows some irrational irritation to leak through. 

Irrational irritation turns to spite, and then motivation and before Kevin knows it, he’s already dialing the phone and requisition to speak to one detective Raymond Holt of the seven-eight precinct.

* * *

He’s being redirected, and Kevin takes the time to take a deep breath, in and out. And then he brings the phone closer to his ears, and waits for the other end to sound off again with, hopefully, the person he’s looking for.

“Good day, this is Detective Raymond Holt, I can come to the phone right now.”

Kevin smiles at the formal tone, part grateful for the politeness. Detective Holt’s voice somehow sounds exactly like what he was picturing when he looked at the picture, joke intended. 

“Hello, detective. My name is Kevin Cozner, I am a writer for The New Yorker,” he replies, the familiar introduction flows out easily. Practice makes perfect, after all. “I am working on a piece about gun-store thefts and tracking stolen firearms, and it is to my understanding that you work as the leading officer for the case. Would you mind answering some questions?”

“It will be my pleasure, Mr. Cozner.”

Mr. Cozner. It has been some times that he has heard that address, though for a big part of his life it usually refers to his father. The small period that Kevin can remember of him being called Mr. is a short gap when he was working on his doctorate, and he hums at the memory.

“Kevin is fine, and thank you,” he replies quickly. “ I will try not to take up much of your time, so a short summary would suffice.”

“But of course,” detective Holt says. He can pick up a rustle of clothing, his interviewee shifting if Kevin has to guess, before said summary comes through. “As you know, the spree has been going for a solid three years, and it isn’t until last year that the case was transferred to our precinct. There was not much to work with, besides the cut and close trace through the Iron Pipeline.”

“Oh?”

“Those are trafficking corridors that funnel firearms. Our suspects kept slipping off our hand. It wasn’t until we found a bolt cutter left at the crime scene did we manage to start up the case again,” he continues, pausing. Kevin’s hand still, the words on the page paused midway at the sudden silence. A beat, then: “The team didn’t have much hope, but I stick to my guns.”

Oh- he chuckles before he himself pauses. Out of everyone, he was not expecting detective Holt to make a word play, but maybe that part is more on Kevin. Never judge the book by its cover, after all.

“I am certainly glad that you had done that, detective. Do go on,” he says, steering the conversation back on track before he can act even more unprofessional.

“Well, from there our suspect, a man named Jeremy Aycock, confessed easily. We had two names coming out of the room, including his cousin and the prime suspect of the case, Scott Aycock. From there we traced Scott down to his house, however, our attempt to capture him wasn’t very successful. He was on the run for 6 months before we managed to capture him again.”

“How so?”

“Well, that is a loaded question-” another play that got another unexpected laugh from him. Is this intentional from detective Holt’s part? “Scott shot himself in the foot when he sold his last ten or fifteen guns, figuratively, and our police dog did the rest of the work. We found him curled up underneath the porch, and this time he was put in behind bars.”

“Good heavens, you are hilarious,” Kevin says honestly, surprising himself for even saying that. Well, it has certainly been a surprising day, might as well. 

“I try my best,” detective Holt replies, before cutting himself off again. Kevin wonders if there’s another priceless play coming, and despite himself, is actually curious about what else can detective Holt come up with. “I am indeed short on time, so perhaps we can meet up later tonight?”

Oh. Another surprise. It really is becoming the theme of the day now, and Kevin leans back on his chair. He rarely does so, but for this occasion, he thinks it’s warranted. 

How is he supposed to take that question? Is detective Holt – he doesn’t finish that train of thoughts, shaking his head slightly. It takes him a second to realise he has not answered, though a good reply eludes him. How does one respond to a Schrodinger’s proposal?

“For personal or professional talk, detective?” By opening the box to see which it is, of course. “I would not want us to be on different pages here.”

“Personal, if you don’t have any objection.”

“Oh.” 

That is not a good reply either, but the situation justified it. He pictures those intense eyes staring at him instead of the camera, and he wonders how they would look when they’re softened around the edges. Eyes are the windows to the soul, and Kevin has never wanted to look through the glasses this badly.

“I’m asking you out,” detective Holt clarifies himself further. “On a date.”

“Of course,” He says, breathlessly with a certain excitement that he rarely feels. “Raymond, can I call you Raymond?”

“If that is a yes to my question, yes you can.”

“Raymond then.” The name rolls off his tongue smoothly, like he has said it a thousand times before. “I would not be averse to a date, as you called it.” 

The conversation continues for a few more minutes before Kevin’s own schedule forces him to get off the phone. It is still work hour, and he bids Raymond goodbye before putting the phone down. 

The note for his New Yorker piece is spare, but at the end of the page Raymond's email address is written down quickly so Kevin considers everything successful. He can always write to Raymond later to ask for more information, through text if only because he can see that voice distracting him from his job again with its brilliant jokes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That whole soulmate thing on Kevin's part sets up hell of a lot of angst potential...perhaps for another time. 
> 
> Otherwise though, I hope you enjoyed reading this! I'm also on tumblr [@onemilisec](https://onemilisec.tumblr.com/) if you wanna reach me
> 
> ...oh woah, the feeling of a short end note, pure bliss


	8. “Thank you for agreeing to my invitation” (2)

He and Raymond, after a few exchanges of emails, agreed on a restaurant that Kevin had heard of but never had the chance to try. 

He spends the evening getting ready for the date, choosing a formal casual wear that would fit and hope that he won’t show up underdressed. That would be most unfortunate, and he would like to leave a good first impression on Raymond. 

The need to impress, that’s a new one. He has that urge every now and then of course, to his parents, to his brother, to his peers, etc. But to a date. Kevin has never put much stock in dating, and beside a few casual relationships that lasted a few months, he has mainly been focusing on his own career. 

Something’s different, something he can’t put a finger on, but that something has somehow got him here, minutes early talking to the waiter about the table under Raymond’s name.

He exchanges a few more words of pleasantries and small talk, and it isn’t until the waiter turns to someone behind him with the trademark polite smile does Kevin even notices that Raymond is also here.

Raymond has been here for god knows how long, and Kevin doesn’t even notice. There goes a good first impression.

“Ah, good evening Raymond,” Kevin regains his composure and smiles at Raymond, hoping to salvage whatever is left. “You’re early.”

“So are you,” Raymond replies, a beat slower like he’s not quite grounded in the room. Kevin supposes he can relate, as his students would put it. Raymond looks...amazing, better in person. The picture does him a disservice, actually. 

“I have to admit, I did overestimate the time it would take to get here,” he answers and hopes that his tone is measured. “Traffic is surprisingly clear tonight.”

“I am glad to hear that.”

“And how about you? Any reason as to why you are here this early?” 

“It’s always good to arrive early,” Raymond says, and oh. 

“Punctual. A man after my own heart,” Kevin replies honestly, and a bit flirtingly. Him, being flirty, how strange. His shoulders relax, he doesn’t even realise they were tense in the first place, as he and Raymond slip into their seats, opposite each other. 

The dinner passes faster than Kevin would have liked. He actually enjoys Raymond’s company, and better yet, every word out of his mouth is positively hilarious. He tries to stifle his laugh the first few times, but as they continue on, he lets himself smile more, talk more with his hands about what he’s teaching to the undergraduate, about Metamorphoses, Ovid, specifically book V-VIII on rhetoric and regret. 

He ends it all with a joke about Ovid and Kafka, and Raymond’s delighted laughter is a sound that Kevin will treasure. 

In return, Raymond shares information about his work and life, his interest in classical music (he has not realised Raymond also likes opera, and marks that fact down for later,) his new interest in painting (Raymond promises to show him one of the rock still life, though Kevin can already tell it will look amazing) before rounding back onto his own taste in literature. 

“I have been getting great recommendations,” Raymond admits and he leans forward with a questioning look. “Faulkner.”

“Amazing taste. I was going through his writing these past months, and he had never disappointed,” Kevin says, pleased. What a coincidence. “Which of his books are you reading at the moment?”

“As I Lay Dying. I started it today, in fact,” he answers, pausing like he’s debating on weather or not to share more. Kevin doesn’t have enough time to wonder, because Raymond’s already continuing: “It has been an amazing read, so far.”

“ May I ask which section are you on right now?”

“Section?” 

He smiles at Raymond indulgently, but doesn’t comment aloud. Dates later Raymond will surprise him by complementing his voice, comparing it to a radio host and hitting the mark closer than he has expected. 

“Faulkner did not number the sections since he was interested in creating a continuous impression. Therefore, the following attempt to divide the novel into sections and groups is made so as to facilitate critical commentary,” he explains like how he would to a lecture hall, and Raymond has stars in his eyes.

“Interesting. I did not know that before.”

“His work is always fascinating to look at,” Kevin says, and here he looks straight at Raymond. Under the dim light of the restaurant, he looks heavenly. “Faulkner's technique is to present short individual sections in which some character gives their thoughts about the events that are taking place. Interior monologue, one would call it.”

“And what are your thoughts on the events that are taking place right now?” Raymond shoots the subtle question back, quick to catch on. 

“I think the evening has been very rewarding, and I do not regret agreeing to your invitation,” he answers, finding himself meaning every word. “Not for a split second at all.”

“I think that we are in agreement,” Raymond says, and to Kevin’s surprise, reaches out and holds Kevin’s hand. The texture is interesting, much more calloused. Kevin holds on tighter. “I would not be opposed to a second date either.”

He looks around the room. It isn’t very crowded tonight, and there are even less people in hearing distance. “Shall we pay and leave? I do wish to kiss you right now, but the setting is, unlike us, less than agreeable,” Kevin makes sure to keep his voice down, though by Raymond’s look he still hears every word perfectly. Kevin hides a smirk at Raymond’s expression. 

They split the check, of course, and Kevin takes his time while Raymond quickly pulls out his wallet. From there they walk back to Raymond’s, seeing how his place is closer and he sticks close to Raymond’s side. There’s no one else beside them on the street, though even if there were others, Kevin would not let go of Raymond’s hand.

At one point, Raymond’s grip gets tighter, and he gives Raymond a questioning side glance but doesn’t say anything else. Instead Kevin squeezes back and presses even closer to Raymond’s side. It’s warm from how close they are, and he doesn’t just mean body temperature.

God, Kevin dreads the end of this date. But they arrive at Raymond’s place eventually, and Kevin watches as Raymond pulls out his keys and unlocks the door carefully, pushing it open but not entering inside. 

“Raymond?” Kevin asks, and Raymond turns around to face him. He looks embarrassed. 

“I remember you did promise me something, back in the restaurant,” Raymond says, almost casually if it’s not for the sheer boldness underneath it all. 

“I suggested, not promised,” he corrects Raymond with a note of teasing, almost like chiding his students for misusing the oxford comma. Raymond smiles back. 

And then he brings Raymond’s hand up and brushes a small kiss on his knuckles, trying to pour all that he has felt, is feeling throughout the night. When he pulls back, Raymond’s looking shocked, like a bird too frozen to fly. 

Raymond lets out a shaky breath. That’s enough to let Kevin know that the message has been received, and he releases Raymond’s hand, watching as it drops back to his side. He misses the contact instantly. 

“And you delivered, in the end,” Raymond shakingly says, and Kevin smiles. This has to be one of his most enjoyable date nights, if not at least in the top 3.

“Thank you for asking me out, Raymond.”

“Thank you for agreeing to my invitation,” Raymond replies. 

Oh. 

His gaze flickers from his wrist, still covered by his watch and then back at Raymond. He does not – the watch does not slip off any moment during the date, there’s no way Raymond would be able to read the words. But he might as well have recited it just now, and he’s chuckling.

Raymond must have read it off his wrist, and this is a cruel joke, right?

“I meant to tell you that at the restaurant at the start, not here,” Raymond explains, and Kevin blinks, turning away. He doesn’t mean to stare, and maybe he was looking lost that Raymond has to explain it to him. How embarrassing. 

But Raymond’s not lying. Which means Raymond might also be his soulmate.

He needs to get out of here, regroup and collect himself. 

Kevin clears his throat, nodding. “Of course. Well, it has been enjoyable but I should be going soon. Lecture to prepare…” he trails off awkwardly, not quite lying. He does have classes to prepare for. “It, honestly, was an amazing night Raymond.”

It was, right up until this moment.

“I have great company,” Raymond offers Kevin a small shrug. “Stay safe on your way back, Kevin. Take care.”

“Good night, and you take care too,” he says, perhaps too quickly but could not find it in himself to care about his speaking speed right now. Instead he turns and walks away, his fists clenching and unclenching on his side. 

He must seem very impolite right now, but for once, Kevin lets himself panic. And when he’s back to his place, the door locked behind his steps, Kevin lets himself laugh out of the disbelief of it all.

He stays up past midnight with the watch off, watching the words delete itself but doesn’t stay for the reveal of the new sentence. The watch stays on as he falls to sleep, dreaming of nothing and everything at the same time, confusing enough to wake Kevin up 5 minutes earlier than the usual alarm clock with his breathing faster than normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look at that, Kevin's reaction to Raymond saying his word. Fun fact, I wrote this in Kevin's POV first to get his reaction and then I wrote Raymond's chap! 
> 
> Hope you like this quick chapter of mostly mindless fluff. 
> 
> I'm on tumblr [@onemilisec](https://onemilisec.tumblr.com/) if you wanna reach me! And hey, until next time friends :D

**Author's Note:**

> The case is based off an actual case that's covered by The New Yorker. A lot of details are altered, left out, (deliberately ignored because of location problem and timeline problem) but hey, this is a fanfic for a tv show. I clicked on the first result that pops up when I comb through the new yorker page, so now you have to put up with this.
> 
> Apparently, Kevin's favourite author is Faulkner, and Raymond reads it aloud for Kevin, says Dan Goor. Thank you, sir, for saving me the hassle of searching for another writer to be Kevin's fav. I just picked a random quote from As I Lay Dying that can be googled and get the novel name.
> 
> Ps: This is not beta read, so I'm sorry for any typo you might have spotted. Otherwise, though, I hope that this was an enjoyable read for you :D More coming soon when I figure out how to write a dating scene for these two


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